


Geography, for nine points

by thepsychicclam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Cunnilingus, F/M, Sterek Campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During his senior year, Stiles develops a crush on Erica. He ends up playing 7 minutes in heaven with her at a party, which is awesome, except she doesn't think that entitles Stiles to at least one date. Enter the bitter sting of rejection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Geography, for nine points

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neerdowellwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neerdowellwolf/gifts).



> The first of my Sterek Campaign auction fics! For the lovely, neerdowellwolf. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write a rare pair, and I love Stiles/Erica, so this was so much fun. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did writing it <3

Stiles checks his hair again, then tugs self-consciously at his t-shirt. “Do you think the geek shirt is okay?” he asks. Scott is lying on Stiles’ bed next to the mound of discarded shirts, staring at the ceiling. “I mean, it’s totally awesome geek, but understated. You have to like _know_ to know, you know?”

“What?” Scott asks, lifting up enough to stare at Stiles and shake his head. “What are you even talking about?”

“You hate it, right? Yeah, it’s total crap.” Stiles pulls the shirt off and tosses it on the pile.

“Just pick a shirt!” Scott exclaims. “They all look exactly the same. Erica won’t care either way.”

“I’m _not_ doing this for Erica,” Stiles laughs awkwardly.

“You can’t lie to a werewolf,” Scott says as he drops back onto the bed with a huff. 

“Dude, I lied to you two days ago,” Stiles says. “You totally thought Isaac had stolen your chips. You were pissed at him all afternoon.”

“You can’t lie to your best friend, when it’s about important things,” Scott amends. “Stiles, I don’t care that you like Erica. You haven’t shut up about her for the past three weeks.”

“Pot, kettle,” Stiles says as he just blindly grabs a t-shirt from the massive pile. He pulls it on and then grabs the cardigan draped over his desk chair. 

“A sweater, really?”

“It’s nicer than my hoodie,” Stiles says. “Lydia said she liked the way I looked in a sweater. That has to mean something, right?” He turns back to the mirror and starts second guessing himself again.

“Ohmigod, Stiles.” Scott gets off the bed and grabs Stiles’ arm. “You look fine.”

“What do you know? You’re a guy. Unless you find me attractive. Do you find me attractive, Scott? Would you date me, play with my weiner?”

“Ugh,” Scott groans as he pulls Stiles down the stairs. Stiles totally doesn’t think tripping on the last step is cause for Scott to laugh _quite_ that much.

*

The parties Greenberg throws are legendary. While Greenberg _himself_ is a tool, Stiles appreciates any guy who can throw an awesome party with a reasonably decent keg of beer. Plus, Greenberg lives far enough out in the county that his dad’s deputies don’t catch wind of the parties. That one time they partied at Michael Tober’s house, Stiles had ended up hiding in a flower bed to get away from Deputy Burton. Stiles’ dad had given him The Eye for a week afterwards. 

“God Stiles, if you check your hair one more time in your phone…”

“Leave him alone,” Allison chides. “It’s adorable.” Stiles runs his hands through his hair as Allison squeezes her face into the frame. Stiles snaps a photo.

“Stiles’ crush is anything _but_ adorable,” Lydia says. “Though I guess since he’s no longer obsessed with me, I should be happy.”

“You miss me,” Stiles says as he slips his phone into his pocket. “You miss my awesome attempts at wooing you. Admit it, I was wearing you down.” Lydia just makes a high-pitched “hmm” sound before striding off. She’s at the keg for all of three seconds before she’s surrounded by the entire basketball team.

“You look great, Stiles.” Allison pats his arm encouragingly. “She won’t know what hit her.”

“Ssh!” Stiles covers Allison’s mouth with his hands as he looks around wildly. “Don’t embarrass me through wolfie hearing!”

“Dude, you know that’s not how it works,” Scott says. “She’d have to be focused on us at the exact moment Allison speaks to hear us. Besides, Isaac just texted and said they’re running late. Derek had them on patrol.”

“The concept of fun is lost on that guy,” Stiles says, gripping Scott’s shoulders and giving them a quick squeeze. “Glad I’m in the fun werewolf pack. Now, I’m going to go see if I can slip through the mass of guys crowded around Lydia at the keg so I can get the fun started.”

Stiles is in a discussion about video game new releases with Danny and his friends from band when the other pack arrives. He sees Cora first, black jeans, black combat boots, and black leather jacket. She nods at him as she goes to grab a beer, trailed by Boyd. They both look like they think they are above the frivolities of a high school party, and to be fair, Stiles thinks they probably are. Cora still may be thirty-five in werewolf years for all he knows.

As casually as possible (which means totally not casual if the way Danny snorts is any indication), Stiles turns around to find Isaac and Erica talking to Scott in the living room. She’s wearing skin tight jeans and a fashionably worn plaid button up unbuttoned low enough to show her cleavage. 

“Might want to wipe some of that drool off your chin before you embarrass yourself,” Danny whispers. Stiles rounds on him and narrows his eyes. Danny just looks like he’s enjoying himself.

“I hate you. So much.”

“Shut up and get some, Stilinski.”

But Stiles’ life just doesn’t ever give him a break. Because by the time he makes his way over to Scott, Erica has disappeared. Isaac gives him a sympathetic look, so Stiles punches him. Which he immediately regrets, because _ow_ Isaac must be made of fucking bricks.

Stiles just decides he’s going to blame Isaac for everything. Because that keg stand is Isaac’s idea, and the game of beer pong is his idea, and then it’s his idea to join the spin the bottle game in the living room. “Really, Isaac?” Stiles asks as Isaac pulls him onto the floor. Stiles likes to think his slightly drunken state allows him to be more easily manhandled to the floor. “What is this, a seventh grade girl’s slumber party?”

“How many of these people have you made out with?” Stiles glances around the circle at his classmates in various states of drunkenness. “That’s what I thought. None of them.”

“I don’t like them,” Stiles whispers. “I barely know who most of them are.” He recognizes a few people from various classes, can name three of them, but the other dozen or so? Blanks.

“I’m just trying to get you to stop moping and maybe get someone’s tongue in your mouth, okay?” 

“I don’t need your help with that, thanks very much.” Isaac shoots him a dubious glance, and Stiles says, “You’re one to talk. Your right hand’s just as callused as mine.” Isaac grins and holds up his palms, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

Maybe he did need Isaac’s help, since his love life had dried up since senior year started. Junior year was a cluster fuck of nightmares and waking dreams and demons, and when he’d come out of that horror back into reality (into what he realized reality actually _was_ , not what he had _thought_ , like that horrible dream where Erica and Boyd were dead), he’d barely made it through the year with his perfect GPA still intact. Dating anyone had been the furthest thing from his mind. 

But then summer came, and Scott kept bringing Isaac when they had video tournaments, and between Scott’s new girlfriend (Wendy from the market around the corner from the vet clinic) and a few Alpha obligations, he showed up less and less. But Isaac just, well, kept showing up anyway. Before Stiles knew it, he and Isaac were making out on his couch instead of playing _Mass Effect_ and then they were spending afternoons fucking around in Stiles’ bedroom.

Stiles had never been so happy for his dad’s long hours. Just more time for him and Isaac to give each other hand jobs and blowjobs. But then his and Isaac’s heated afternoons kinda dwindled after a couple of months and they just went back to playing video games and eating Doritos – basically, being bros instead of fuck buddies. Since then, Stiles hadn’t had sex with anyone. Granted, his massive crush on Erica hasn’t helped things one bit.

Some guy Stiles has never seen before spins the bottle and it lands on Isaac. Isaac turns to Stiles and grins widely before getting up and walking with the guy to a door down the hall. “Where are they going?”

A few of the people look at him like he’s an idiot as they laugh. “To the closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“God, Stilinski, what is wrong with you?” a guy from Stiles’ chemistry class says. Stiles wonders why he’s even still sitting there. He’s not sure he wants to kiss any of these assholes and contemplates following Isaac into the closet just for old time’s sake.

Isaac reappears seven minutes later, flushed and grinning ear to ear. He drops beside Stiles, and Stiles whispers, “You reek of sex. I don’t even have wolfie smell and I can smell it. Plus, I know that look. That’s your ‘someone just touched my dick’ look.” Isaac just leans back on his hands and looks around the room smugly.

To Stiles’ horror, the bottle lands on him on one of the next spins. The girl’s name is Julie, and she’s on the swim team and one of the most popular juniors at Beacon Hills. She groans and rolls her eyes. “At least you can just sit in there and talk for seven minutes,” someone says.

Stiles is plotting fifteen different ways to kill a werewolf because this is _all_ Isaac’s fault when Erica saunters up behind Julie and lays one hand on Julie’s shoulder, digging her perfectly manicured nails into her shoulder as she presses her back to the floor.

“I’ve got this one,” Erica says with a feral smile on her face as she looks down at the other girl. “I doubt you can handle Stilinski anyway. His skills are legendary.”

“What?” Julie asks, looking at Stiles and then back at Erica. 

“How is Stilinski legendary in anything?” someone asks. Erica turns to the source and waggles her tongue.

“It’s only seven minutes, guys,” Julie says, standing up again.

Erica strides over to Stiles, hooks her arm in his, and drags him away from the group. “You don’t deserve the _pleasure_ , Julie.” She grins as Julie glares daggers at her. 

Stiles wonders what in the hell just happened. 

Erica leads him down the hallway to the very end, opens a door, and pushes him inside. The closet is tiny and dark, and Stiles can feel Erica’s warm breath on his face and her boobs pressed against his chest. 

“What in the hell just happened out there?” Stiles asks. He waves his hand in front of his face. “Can you see me? Unfair advantage.” Erica’s eyes burn gold in the darkness, and he see them scrunch with what he is sure is her grin.

“I hate that bitch,” Erica says. “And no one is going to fuck with you like that.”

“Y’all fuck with me all the time.”

“ _We_ can tease you mercilessly. No one else can, though. I’d like to claw that arrogant bitch’s eyes out with my claws.”

“Aw, Erica, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Erica says, pushing him back into a row of coats. “I have seven minutes. I intend to use them.”

Then, Erica kisses him. Stiles makes a surprised sound, but she ignores it and licks into his mouth. He wraps his arms around her neck, pulling her closer as he overcomes his initial shock. He’s not even sure what is happening; five minutes ago people were making fun of him and he was kinda drunk, and now he’s startling sober and in a closet making out with Erica, the only reason he came to this stupid party in the first place. 

Stiles intends to use the only seven minutes he’ll ever get kissing Erica Reyes. He slides his hand underneath her shirt, and she gasps into his mouth as he cups her breast through her _holy fuck thin lacy bra_. He thumbs her nipple, brushing the pad back and forth, and she kisses him harder. When she drops her hand and squeezes his erection through the material of his shorts, he drops his head back against the coats. She leans forward and nips his neck, and oh god, those are fangs.

Stiles hasn’t nearly gotten enough of the taste of her tongue when someone knocks on the door. She pulls away, and Stiles isn’t at all embarrassed that he whines quietly. Erica reaches out a hand and cups his face gently, and the gesture takes Stiles completely by surprise. He’s still reeling when she opens the door and steps out, perfectly together. Stiles is still trying to figure out exactly just how to use his limbs.

“I like the sweater,” Erica says when she turns back to him with a smile. It’s small and not as brazen as the one she usually wears, and Stiles can barely think straight.

She’s beautiful.

But then she’s gone and he’s in an empty closet surrounded by someone else’s coats.

This is so Isaac’s fault.

*

School is awkward, to say the least. Monday morning, Stiles walks into AP English and isn’t sure whether to wave or totally ignore Erica. Since she’s busy on her cell phone, he decides ignore. Yep. She’s ignoring him, he’ll ignore her.

They both try to go into AP Psych at the same time, and so ignoring her isn’t an option. He readjusts the backpack straps on his shoulders and gives her an awkward smile.

“Heeeeyyyy Erica,” he says, and she tilts her head and looks at him like he’s insane.

“Hey Stiles,” Erica says quickly as she enters the classroom.

Smooth, Stilinski. Real smooth.

*

“Dude, just ask her out,” Scott says at lunch on Wednesday. “You’ve been exchanging awkward greetings with her for three days.”

“Think she’d say yes?” Stiles asks Isaac. He shrugs as he takes a bite of his sandwich. “You’re supposed to know these things! You share the super sacred wolf bond!”

“That doesn’t mean I can read her mind,” Isaac retorts. 

“Dude, you’re supposed to know these things. Your werewolf senses are supposed to give you the upper hand!”

“Girls are still a mystery,” Isaac says, and Scott nods in agreement.

“Why do I keep you around?” Stiles asks Isaac, shaking his head. “You’re absolutely no help.”

“For god’s sake, Stiles,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. “Grow some balls and ask her out. If she says no, at least you’ll stop obsessing about it.”

“But then I have to live with the sting of rejection.”

“You should be used to it,” Lydia says with a saccharine smile. 

“You’re evil.” Scott and Isaac just laugh at him.

*

Friday rolls around and Stiles still hasn’t asked Erica out. He doesn’t know why he can’t muster the courage to just walk up to her and ask her to dinner or a movie. He’s faced Alpha werewolves and demons and werecoyotes. He’s fought side by side with Erica; they’ve been covered in the same blood. 

This should be easy. But girls really have never been Stiles’ strength. And he is well aware of his strengths.

But he’s leaning against his Jeep when he sees her at the soda machine alone. Cora and Boyd have already walked towards their car, so Stiles seizes the moment. Carpe Diem, or some shit.

“Cherry Coke,” Stiles says as Erica bends to grab the plastic bottle from the machine. He gets a little distracted by her ass in her jeans as she’s bent over. “A little cliché, but a solid choice. I prefer Classic Coke myself.”

“Like that’s not cliché,” she responds. She’s wearing a pink sweater, and Stiles can’t help but notice how soft and feminine it makes her look. Suddenly, his palms are sweating and he’s nearly panicking. “Did you need something?”

“Oh yeah, um…” Stiles scrubs a hand over the back of his head, staring anywhere but at Erica. “I was wondering if you, you know if you aren’t busy, if you, um, wanted to go to dinner. Tonight. With me.” He finally looks up at her, and she’s got an unreadable expression on her face.

“I like you, Stiles,” Erica says after a few moments, and Stiles braces himself for the inevitable but that’s already been uttered. “But the other night was just fun, you know? Between friends. I mean, you’re a great kisser, but it was just a party game.”

“Yeah, sure, I know,” he stammers. He can tell by the look on her face that she can feel his overwhelming embarrassment and disappointment, as if his burning cheeks weren’t giving him away enough. Man, he hated werewolves sometimes. “Um, enjoy your Cherry Coke,” he says lamely before turning around and hightailing it to his Jeep.

Inside, he takes a few moments just to recover from the extreme humiliation of being rejected by his crush within the hearing of her werewolf friends.

Stiles thinks after years of this with Lydia he should be used to the feeling.

The difference is that he always expected rejection from Lydia; he actually thought Erica might say yes.

*

The line for takeout at the pizza place is ridiculous. The place is packed, not only because it’s Saturday night, but because it’s trivia night. Stiles just wants his pizza for one so he can go back to the house and spend the rest of his night with Netflix.

Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels something sharp poke him in the side. His yelp is lost in the din of the restaurant, but when he turns around, he finds Erica laughing at him. Her finger is quickly fading from a claw.

His mouth falls open at the sight of her; he almost doesn’t recognize her. She’s wearing worn jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. 

Erica looks like she used to back before the bite. Stiles wonders why he didn’t notice her then, when she had a crush on him. She’s beautiful in a way that makes Stiles want to hold her on the couch and do nothing but watch bad chick flicks. He can’t imagine looking at her two years ago and not noticing her. But his head had been so far up Lydia’s ass that he hadn’t seen anything else. For a fleeting moment, he wonders what else he missed over the years.

“You shouldn’t be waving those things around,” Stiles says to cover up his embarrassment. 

“Worth it,” she says with a smile. 

“Picking up pizzas for the pack?” Stiles asks.

Erica shakes her head. “My mom’s working tonight, so it’s just me. I don’t know what the boys are doing; I didn’t ask.”

“Oh,” Stiles responds. He scratches his chin. “I just assumed you three spent all your time with Derek, you know, learning how to brood and which leather is seasonally appropriate.” He realizes that Erica said the word _mom_ , and it strikes him as odd. “Mom? I didn’t know you had a mom. I just assumed you lived with Derek.”

“Why would you assume that?” Erica asks. “That would be inordinately creepy. Three teenagers, including a teenage girl, living with Derek? I have a mom, a grandmother, and a nosy aunt who lives with us.”

“But you lived in the train station back after, you know, and you’re always over there, and – “

“Stiles.”

“Sorry.” He turns back towards the to go counter. “So you don’t live with Derek?”

“No,” she sighs. Erica glances at the busy dining room and asks, “Do you have plans for your takeout pizza? We could eat here and play trivia.”

“Really?” he asks way too excitedly as he spins around, flailing. She looks at him in amusement, but nods. “Hell yeah. I love trivia.”

“Cool.”

As she leads the way to the hostess stand, Stiles says, “You better not suck. I take my trivia seriously.”

“You’re not the only one who knows massive amounts of pointless information.”

After they’re seated and the hostess has left them, Stiles says, “And don’t be using your werewolf hearing to cheat. I don’t roll that way.”

She rolls her eyes. “I think I can manage.”

They share a pepperoni pizza as they play trivia, naming their team ‘Wolf and Little Red.’ “So original,” Erica teases him, but she doesn’t seem to mind. 

True to her word, Erica knows a lot of facts, more importantly a few things that Stiles does not. At first Stiles feels awkward, glad there’s trivia to distract him from his nervousness and his lack of things to say. He _never_ runs out of things to say, but being on this not-date with Erica leaves him speechless.

But as the questions continue, Stiles finds himself relaxing. Aside from his crush, Erica is just fun to be with. She’s smart, interesting, and has a wicked sense of humor. Stiles finds himself on more than one occasion laughing so hard he’s snorting, and once she says something right as he takes a sip of his drink that makes him spew Coke all over her.

It might be his imagination, but Erica looks like she’s having fun. She doesn’t take out her cell phone to check the time – not even once – and she has a smile on her face most of the night. Stiles finds himself leaning closer and closer to her, and near the end of round two, their knees are bumping beneath the table.

They huddle together, pens at the ready, as the trivia announcer prepares to reads question 19. Stiles is so close to Erica that loose strands of her hair brush against his cheek, and he can smell the light fragrance of flowers around her.

“Geography for nine points. What’s the capital of Burkino Faso?”

“What?” Stiles asks, and Erica grins as she scribbles down _Ouagadougou_. “You’re making shit up.”

“Swear, on my life,” Erica says, looking up at him. Her eyes are wide and bright, and she’s so close it would be so easy to just lean forward a few inches and kiss her. “That’s the capital.”

“How do you know that?” Stiles asks as he copies the answer. 

“Seventh grade geography,” she replies. “I like saying the word. Ouagadougou… Ouagadougou.”

“You are so weird,” Stiles says, shaking his head as he tears the sheet of paper off. 

“Come on, say it,” Erica urges. She pushes his arm playfully, keeps her hand there. “Say it. Ouagadougou.”

“Ouagadougou,” he repeats, and finds himself smiling as it rolls off his tongue. “Ouagadougou.”

“See? Told you.” She smiles smugly as he turns the answer in.

They’re the only team to get it right.

*

“I guess this means you have to come play trivia with me again,” Stiles says later, holding up the second place gift certificate as they walk to their cars. “Unless you are going to yield your fifteen dollars to me.”

“I might could be convinced to return to trivia,” Erica says with a small smile. “We could always invite the packs, have a massive team.”

“Lydia and Boyd would definitely be helpful,” Stiles says. “Allison’s pretty smart, too.”

“Scott and Isaac have sports down,” Erica says. 

“We’d be unstoppable.”

“We’d have to change our name.”

“What? You didn’t like ‘Wolf and Little Red’? I thought it was perfect.”

“Because you’re an idiot.” They’re stopped beside Erica’s car. She’s leaning against the door, and Stiles is just standing there, unsure what to do. If this was a movie, he’d kiss her. But this isn’t a movie, and regardless of the fact that they just had dinner and played trivia – which might be considered a date by one Stiles Stilinski – he knows he’s probably reading too much into it. Yesterday she’d turned him down; this was just an instance of two friends hanging out.

“Well, good night,” Stiles says, giving Erica a wave as he turns and walks towards his jeep. He forces himself not to turn around and look at her, to keep it in the friend zone. One rejection is enough disappointment for one week. He doesn’t want to ruin his good night.

*

Stiles is playing a lame Facebook game later that night when his phone vibrates. It’s a text from Erica.

_Djibouti is my favorite country in the whole world. I used to want to live there when I was in middle school._

Stiles smiles, and then types out a reply.

_What would you have done in Djibouti? Other than just say Djibouti every chance you got._

_Their top two industries are insurance and transportation out of the harbor. So, obviously insurance agent or boat captain._

Stiles laughs and loads up the Wikipedia page on Djibouti while he responds.

_I vote boat captain. You definitely have djibouti for it…_

_Ughhhh only took you three minutes to make that joke._

_:)_

The next time Stiles looks at the clock, it’s after 3 a.m. and he and Erica have spent the last three hours texting about everything from Djibouti’s natural gold resources to the latest Marvel movie to werewolf fight tactics.

_I should get to bed. I have to write that English essay tomorrow_

Stiles frowns, not wanting to stop, but he also has to write the essay. And finish the book.

_I should probably finish Brave New World before I try to write the paper._

_How did you not just tear through it? It’s fantastic!_

The talk about dystopian and science fiction literature until after four, when Stiles falls asleep with his cell phone in his hand.

*

Stiles and Erica text regularly for the next few days. Sometimes, it’s pointless things like Stiles saying, _I got my hoodie caught in the jeep door._ Or Erica saying, _My aunt just bought a magic bullet mixer thing, and idk that just sounds dirty to me._

At lunch on Thursday, Stiles gets a text from Erica that says, _gym class should be illegal. i obviously don’t need it and the smell of sweat is suffocating._ Stiles laughs and texts something back.

“Are you dating Erica now?” Isaac asks. 

“What?” Stiles asks, whipping his head up and hitting send before slipping the phone in his pocket. “No! Why would you even ask that question?”

“Because you two have been texting non-stop for days. Derek yelled at her yesterday because she wouldn’t get off her phone long enough to work on drills.”

“You didn’t tell me you’ve been texting her!” Scott exclaims. “Dude, what happened?”

Stiles shrugs. “Nothing. We went to trivia on Saturday, that’s it.”

“You went on a date?” Allison asks.

“It wasn’t a date,” Stiles says. “We were both there picking up pizzas to go, and she suggested we play trivia instead.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” Isaac says, shoving a French fry in his mouth. 

“Shut up,” Stiles says. “We’re just friends. And yeah, we’ve been texting, but she made it very clear she didn’t want to go on a date when she turned me down.”

“Doesn’t sound like she meant it,” Allison says.

“I hate all of you, yes, even you Allison,” Stiles says as his phone vibrates in his pocket again.

*

Stiles rereads the text three times before he can make his fingers move properly.

_Wanna come over and watch a movie? I have a free Redbox code._

_What time?_

_6ish? Pick up dinner on your way._

After school, Stiles takes a shower, tries on five different outfits before he finally gives in and calls Scott. “Dude,” he says when Scott answers, “Erica wants me to go to her house and watch movies and bring food. This is a date, right? Tell me I’m not wrong.”

“Sounds like a date,” Scott says. “But it might be just hanging out.”

“Ugh!” Stiles drops back onto his bed and rubs his eyes. “Why is she so maddening?”

“Seems to be your type,” Scott says with humor in his voice.

“You’re enjoying this, you sadistic ass. Not all of us can have the face of a cute puppy, a charming personality, and the body of a model to get us uncomplicated relationships.”

“Yes, Stiles, because my relationships have been _so_ uncomplicated,” Scott replies. 

“Wendy is uncomplicated.”

“That’s one out of many.”

“Your on-and-off again thing with Allison doesn’t count as more than one.”

“We’re discussing your love life for once, not mine.”

Stiles groans and looks at the mound of clothes he’s lying on. “What should I wear?”

“I’m hanging up now, Stiles.”

“No! Scott – “

“Just go over there and have a good time. If it’s a date, you’ll figure it out pretty quickly, okay? If she lets you kiss her, odds are it’s a date.”

“I hate you.”

“Good luck, buddy. Text me as soon as it’s over.”

“Will do.”

*

Stiles drives by Erica’s street three times because he’s too nervous to actually _turn_ down the street. And she’s a werewolf, which means if he sits in the driveway and freaks out, she’ll know. He’d like to keep his humiliation to a minimum, thanks.

He pulls into the driveway at 6:05. Fashionably late, or at least not fifteen minutes early like he _would_ have been if he hadn’t driven by the street three times and then back into town. He really hopes the burritos aren’t cold.

“I got the newest Dreamworks animated movie,” Erica says as a greeting when she opens the door. “I hope that was okay. If not, too bad.” She grins widely. “My free movie.”

Stiles laughs, and it dispels some of the tension creeping into his shoulders. He walks into the house, and follows Erica into the living room. He sits on the couch and sets the food bag on the table.

“Hope you like burritos,” he says as he starts pulling food from the bag. 

“Hell yeah!” Erica exclaims as she takes the wrapped burrito from her. “Who doesn’t?”

“Sad, sad souls,” Stiles says dramatically, shaking his head as he puts containers of pico, guacamole, and sour cream on the table between them. “People who hate fun and tasty tasty goodness.”

They eat as they watch the movie, passing chips and queso dip back and forth. Stiles feels relaxed in a way he didn’t expect. Maybe it’s because Erica’s wearing holey jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, or that she’s dipping her finger into the cheese and licking it off. It still feels like a date, but he doesn’t feel like he has to act a certain way or impress her. He appreciates that she doesn’t feel the need to not eat in front of him or act contrived – she eats more than he does, and then burps afterwards. Werewolves, man. Even the girl ones. Cora’s just as bad.

After the movie finishes, Stiles says, “Do I lose man points if I say I loved it?”

“I’d kick your ass if you didn’t love it.”

Stiles grins. “Glad we’re in agreement then.” He stretches, then looks around awkwardly as he scratches his stomach. “So…what now?”

“Are you nervous?” Erica asks. She’s shifted on the couch so that she’s facing him, her arm resting on the back with her head on her hand. Stiles thinks she looks so beautiful, with her curls falling around her face and watching him in slight, fond amusement. He wants to kiss her, so he does.

He leans forward and cups her head in his palm, and tentatively presses his lips against hers. It’s hardly anything more than a brush of lips. They’ve already kissed, but this feels so different, now that they’ve hung out and talked more than while fighting, that they’re in Erica’s living room, that there’s light around them. Stiles smiles against her mouth when she kisses him back, moving towards him eagerly as her arms snake around his neck.

“I wondered if you were going to kiss me,” she mumbles against his mouth, words obscured as they kiss ungracefully. “I would have done it myself, but didn’t want to take away your manliness.”

“So considerate,” Stiles says between kisses. It’s not like kissing other people – he’s kissed a few people now (can still count them on two hands, but it’s not too shabby), but Erica kisses like she does everything else – aggressively, gracefully, with a touch of freedom and softness you wouldn’t expect. 

Stiles realizes that he’s waxing poetically about kissing Erica, which is never a good sign. But his brain is overacting and he’s trying very hard not to have it going to places it shouldn’t. He’s trying to not be a total perv.

Before Stiles knows it, he’s stretched out on top of Erica, and they’re kissing with their hands roaming everywhere. Her hands keep skirting along the hem of his shirt, her fingers brushing against his skin, and his hands have been squeezing her breasts for the past few minutes. She drops her head back to the couch, and Stiles kisses down her chin and then along the column of her neck. The smell of her skin is faint and pleasant, not overly flowery or perfume-y. It’s just perfect. 

Experimentally, Stiles rubs his hand between her legs, against the crotch her jeans. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, somewhere between a moan and a growl as she pushes into his hand. Stiles rubs her through the denim as he resumes kissing her, and she copies him by rubbing his half-hard cock through his khakis. 

“Not that, ah, I’m not enjoying this or would not be happy to do this all night long,” Stiles half-breathes, half-moans against her cheek, “but I’m thinking less clothes is a good idea.”

“I agree,” Erica says. Stiles rolls over as she leans up and pulls off her shirt, tossing it aside. Stiles stares at her lying there in her bra, and for a moment, she seems a bit shy. 

“Are you a virgin?” Stiles asks her suddenly, because the answer changes his entire plan for the night. Not that he really has a plan, but he likes to know all the facts of what he’s dealing with in every situation. And he considers himself a pretty resourceful person; he can work with either.

Erica shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, his hand pausing while unzipping his fly. “Who?”

She bites her lip as her cheeks go bright pink. “I’m not sure if I should be offended that you’re surprised I’m _not_ a virgin,” Erica says. “I mean, it wasn’t _Isaac_ , but…”

“How did you know about that?” Stiles asks as he starts helping her unbutton her jeans. 

Erica rolls her eyes. “Isaac only reeked of you the whole summer. We all knew; hard to keep that stuff secret from your Pack.”

“So, what you’re saying is…” Stiles pauses, and then says, “the Pack’s going to know that we’ve…” She nods as she pushes her jeans down onto her thighs. “Oh god, I can’t believe the only two people I’ve ever had sex with are in the same Pack.” He drops his head against her bare shoulder and groans.

Erica runs her fingers through his hair. “They won’t think anything about it,” she assures him. “They’ll give me shit because that’s what brothers do, and then that’ll be that.” She kisses his forehead. “You just have good taste, Stilinski, what can I say?”

He lifts his head up, his fingers playing along her belly. “Who was it? Who have you had sex with? Please don’t say Isaac, or oh god, Derek.”

Erica laughs. “Jackson.”

Stiles just stares at her in shock. And well, at least she has the decency to look a bit embarrassed for having sex with _Jackson_. “What? How? Are you insane?”

Erica slaps him across the head. “Be nice, okay? Sure, he’s a douchebag, but he’s not so bad, you know?” She shrugs. “He visited from England over the summer, one thing led to another…it was fun, but that’s it.”

“I think I’ve lost my boner,” Stiles says, “just the mention of Jackson…”

“Stiles, shut up and get to using those magical fingers and mouth. I wasn’t lying when I told Julie you were legendary. Isaac’s tongue gets quite loose when he’s been drinking, and the things he told me…”

“Fucking Isaac,” Stiles murmurs as he situates himself into a comfortable position. He kisses Erica again, and slides his fingers inside her underwear. They both moan at the same time. She’s warm and wet, and since his experience is with a guy, he has zero experience with a girl. And god, Erica feels fucking perfect against his fingers.

He slides his fingers around for awhile, trying to get his bearings. He’s watched enough porn and listened to Scott enough to know how everything works, so he quickly finds her clit and starts rubbing it slowly. Her hips jerk and she moans loudly, and fuck if that isn’t the sexiest thing he’s ever heard.

Erica grips his hair with one hand, their mouths never moving away from one another. Her free hand pushes into the open fly of his pants, and she wraps her fingers around his cock. He shudders as he whines embarrassingly into her mouth. She strokes him lazily, and they stay like that for awhile, just touching and making small noises, but not focused enough to get each other off.

Stiles kisses his way down Erica’s chest, pausing briefly to mouth at her nipples before moving down the couch. He tugs her jeans all the way off, then hooks his thumbs in her rather modest cotton underwear before sliding them down. He licks his lips as he looks at her, dark blonde curls that are less tame than he expected (and he fucking _loves_ it), and when he leans closer, he breathes in the heavy musk scent between her legs.

Her legs fall open, and he licks along her lips before he separates them and just stares for a moment. Her cunt is pink and already so wet. He has to take a deep breath not to come right away. Then, Stiles leans down and licks a long strip across her clit.

“Fuck,” she growls, and god, that’s hot. He does it again, this time circling his tongue around her clit a few times, and her hands are in his hair and she’s squirming. He sets up an even pattern as he licks her, her taste heavy and slightly bitter on his tongue. 

Stiles could do this all day. He’s always known he had an oral fixation, and he likes this as much as he had sucking dick. And from the noises Erica’s making, he’s _good_ at it. He’s got two fingers buried inside her, massaging inside her as he licks her clit. His chin and lips are wet, and it feels filthy but he loves it. 

He knows Erica’s close when she starts clenching around his fingers, her moans turning more high-pitched and urgent. Stiles flicks his tongue faster and with more pressure against her clit, and after a few moments, she’s arching against his face and coming loudly. He continues licking her as she comes down, her cunt pulsing around his fingers.

Finally, Erica tugs his hair and he removes his fingers and kisses his way up her body, eventually covering her mouth with his, and smearing the clear moisture on both their faces. “Do you have a condom?” Erica asks him after they’ve been kissing for a few moments. 

“I’m a teenage guy who may or may not have been going on a date,” Stiles says. “Of course I have a condom.”

Erica laughs as Stiles digs into his pants pockets before kicking them off completely. Erica removes her bra, and after a minute, they’re both lying together naked. Stiles runs his hand across her hair and kisses her softly. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, and he’s rewarded with a smile.

After Stiles puts on the condom, he braces himself on the couch cushions as he slides inside her. Erica’s eyes flutter, and his arms shake as he tries to go gently and not too fast. When he’s all the way seated, he leans down to kiss her and pulls out again to start a slow, steady rhythm.

Even with all the sex he’d had the previous summer, he’d never had intercourse with another person, so the sensations are new and overwhelming. The tight heat of Erica around him, plus the contractions of her cunt are driving him closer and closer to the edge. “I’m not going to last long,” he murmurs against her neck.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, her fingernails scratching along his back. He repositions himself so he can fuck into her faster and harder, and the flutters of pleasure across her face go straight to his core. When he’s close, he bends to kiss her, and then his smooth thrusts become more erratic as he finally pushes in a final time and comes. 

Erica’s kissing him and running her hands along his skin as he comes down, and it feels so nice, so comforting. He nuzzles into her neck and just inhales. 

When he can move again, he pulls out and removes the condom, tying it off and dropping it on the floor beside the couch. Then, he kisses her as he rubs her clit again until she’s shaking and coming a second time beneath him.

Stiles moves around until he’s between her and the couch, and she’s snuggled in front of him. He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and covers them, and Erica grabs the remote. “A movie on Netflix streaming, or sitcom marathon?”

“Don’t care,” Stiles says as he runs his hands through her hair and kisses her ear, her cheek, her neck. She hums contently against him.

“I think I like cuddly Stiles,” she says as she leaves it on the random 90s sitcom. “I think I could get used to this.”

“Really?” Stiles asks as he drops a kiss on her shoulder.

“Yep. I’ve never had a proper boyfriend. It’s about time I tried that.”

Stiles laughs against her skin and holds her closer. “I think I’m up to the challenge.”

“You better be, Stilinski. You’ve set the bar high, and we’re just getting started.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” Stiles groans against her neck, but he’s laughing.

“You love it,” she says. And as Stiles spends the next hour holding her against him, he realizes that yes, yes he does.

-fin

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://thepsychicclam.tumblr.com), if you want to say hi :D


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